An Unsung Hero
by Cornelia Odeveca
Summary: Who was Sir Weeping Weirwood, and what was his purpose in a song of ice and fire? Here is his tale by those that loved him most. Please enjoy, will be a short but good read! (((One-shot))) {Legacy Of Old Valeryia: Companion Piece}


**_My OC character in the world of ASOIAF. _**

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**_Sir Weeping Weirwood_**

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_Bryda Rivers, 299 AD _

They all asked the same question …

_Who was Sir Weeping Weirwood?_

Was he a follower of the Old Gods, a man trying to sound more mysterious and heroic than he actually was, or perhaps the Laughing Knight; a mystery knight, returned to wreck even more unexplainable happenings?

The truth was, Sir Weeping Weirwood was, he was… he was my father.

I am Bryda Rivers born from his beloved Bettricia Bracken, but I never had the chance to meet him personally.

The fact that I would never meet my father did not bother me as much as the lack of information I knew about him, and neither did many of the people he met.

My life's goal was to remedy this truth, His truth.

From what I was told and found from hard research was a stable-boy; about his age and description, worked at the Blackwood House where he was nursed and raised. His mother was a whore that died during his birthing and his father was a known rapist who inherited no lands or titles. Many villagers expected him to be no better than his sadistic alcoholic father. I could not believe that.

He was a very lonely child that led a solitary life tending to the ravens at House Blackwood, but was asked to leave at the age of eleven due to unknown reasons. He walked among the orchards and farms were he would bid the night to stay, do his work, and then be on his way.

At the age of twelve is when the visions began, and they were relentless.

Mother explained that the visions were just that, visions of the past, present, and future and he could not bring himself to forget them.

But with time, he did forget the person that cared for him, and loved him most, my mother.

He would wake screaming in the night, sweating like a dog, and then go running until he was tired enough to not have the visions. He once tried to strangle my mother thinking she was a cold-blooded monster with undead blue-eyes. He surely went mad.

In fear for harming my mother, he left. He disappeared from the public's eye soon after.

It was not until he turned twenty that he went to High Heart where a great Weirwood Tree stood, and it was there that he would remain until Prince Rheagar stole the Stark girl, Lyanna, and he had a vision of the Prince's Death.

Risking his life he went to the Dragon's Court, and spoke of his vision. He risked getting burned alive by the Mad King, but he would advise the Princess; Rheagar's wife, and intentionally change the fate of Westeros against the fall of Targaryen Dynasty and hopefully for what is to come…His visions of the undead coming alive, three dragon heads rising out of the snow, oceans turning to deserts, suns falling from the sky, and sheer panic has yet to come. I wish more than ever that he was here, so he may give us guidance.

The Battle for the Dawn will come, Winter Will Come, but are we really prepared…

Will he be remembered?

He was the unsung hero, Sir Weeping Weirwood was. He returned to my mother shortly after his intervention, but he would die of a fall from a horse before my mother birthed me. What a poor fate. He was a man that could see the death of a Prince, but not even see his own death. What a fickle world we live in.

He died with his given title, buried at the High Heart were my mother also chose to be buried. He lies there now, and it is said no harm will ever come to those laid to rest beneath the faces of the Weirwood Trees. Some would say the ghost of the children will watch over him till the end of time. His tombstone has not a name, he asked to let it remain blank, but I did mark my mother's grave, _Betty._

I visit when I can make the journey, and place white lilies that my mother loved so much.

But he will not remain nameless, not to me.

His name was Sir Weeping Weirwood, but more importantly he was my Father, he is my Father.

I love you Father, and I wish I could have met you.

Your little girl,

Bryda

P.S.-_Attached to this is a letter from my father to my mother, and is one of my most treasured objects. When I have trouble sleeping or am thinking of him I read it, and it gives me pleasant thoughts. I hope wherever he is that he has found the peace that he so rarely found in life, because reading this gave me mine. _

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My Sweet Bettricia Bracken,

If you have gotten this that means I have already left you.

Betty, I never meant for these visions to destroy our future.

If I could refuse those Old Gods, I would do so a thousand times, let them torture me, scrutinize me, and beat me bloody so that I may be free of this curse. I would have refused that damn three-eyed raven that poisoned my mind with ugly truths, bloody wars, and sinful horrors that no man should ever witness. I hate every moment.

I lost my sanity, and I lost you too many times to count. It destroyed me. It destroyed every goodness and kindness that you saw in me. I am no longer the man you remember, merely a shell of my former self. I live a life half-awake and half-dream not knowing which day will take me to some battle-field nightmare, or be dunked in pitiless water sludge until my lungs are filled with mud, and then awake to harm those around me as I lash out blindly.

Maybe we could have, if the crisis was only a meager lifestyle, dealing with prejudices, and a feud between our houses, but we already have enough delusions for a lifetime, let us not fool ourselves. I am frightened Betty, but I am even more frightened of what may happen to you when I go into one of these trances. I cannot protect you, when I cannot even protect myself.

I adore you, treasure our time, but abhor the thought of ever leaving you open to ridicule because of a lunatic husband, and so I have left. Do not attempt to find me, because you will be sorely disappointed.

Please Betty, pursue life, continue loving, and allow yourself to smile. Your smiles are the sweetest beauty in a world fraught with selfish and disgusting people.

My visions may have grown worse, but my feelings for you have only grown stronger. You taught me to love, and most importantly to accept and forgive myself, and I am forever grateful to you. Be safe, love well, and live my darling one. I hope you spare a thought of me once in awhile, for I will always be thinking and wishing for your happiness.

My Beloved, I love you always,

_Your Knight, Sir Weeping Weirwood _

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**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_-This is dedicated to Veronica and Louie, their love is inspirational, and I only hope to share that experience of happiness, patience, and acceptance with all those that come my way. Have a wonderful 2015 and God Bless! _**

**_-0o0o0o0 Miss Cornelia Odeveca o0o0o0o0o_**


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